


sincerely yours,

by lumieres (irlsugawara)



Category: OMORI (Video Game)
Genre: Heavy Angst, character death but we already knew this :), huge huge huge spoilers, sliiiiight happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:00:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28945536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irlsugawara/pseuds/lumieres
Summary: dear mari,will you forgive me for being two years too late?i should’ve told you that you played so beautifully.maybe i’m two years too late but…i love you.sincerely yours,hero
Relationships: Hero/Mari (OMORI)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 59





	sincerely yours,

**Author's Note:**

> SO WOW, HI. 
> 
> i've been so inspired by omori (and the recent feedback on my sunkel fic, thank u guys SO much!!) and it has me in a literal vice grip that i Had to put something out for heromari. it's obviously... not happy, like at all. and focuses on hero, two yrs after mari's death. annnnd well, this is a letter he wrote to her. :)
> 
> i did add some more depth to mari's character, just as an fyi. as an oldest sibling, i felt that she had this need to be extra perfect, extra caring, extra everything, and i wanted to show that in this oneshot bc it, to me, makes sense as to how everything happened the way it did? in a sense? so she played the piano obsessively and altho she didn't outwardly show it, her obsessive perfectionism shook sunny up to the point that he was sick and tired of the violin, which... you know. mari is still a good sister though!!! she cared for him even when he was ready to give up but unknowingly, she was pushing onto him when she shouldn't have. that's what i think, at least- it makes sense to me considering her, me, and hero are all *handshake emoji* oldest sibling solidarity.
> 
> UHH REGARDLESS, i have some more ideas brimming in my head (next up is something on basil!!!) so i hope you guys can look out for that too! thank you for the love, support, the kudos, and the lovely lovely lovely comments! i hope u guys enjoy this ;-;

_dear mari,_

  
  
  
  


wilted flower crowns, a lone picnic basket, checkered blankets, and a warm lap paired with gentle hands. whenever hero thinks of her, he hears the gentle melody of a piano being played, fingertips pressing down on keys ever-so-lightly, and a hum to accompany the melody. mari played it so often that hero had begun to pick up on the piece itself, the music on replay whenever he’d go to bed and dream of her amongst all his glittering achievements. neither medal nor trophy compares to the way she seems to shine when she smiles at him, her hands moving lightning-quick across the piano. call hero whipped but he had never seen concentration look so pretty on anyone else’s face: the light pinch of the brow, teeth catching at the corner of her lower lip, and steely gaze that could cut through metal. she was accomplished. she was amazing. she was gentle. she was warmth.

  
  
  
  


_will you forgive me for being two years too late?_

  
  
  
  


they met when they were young, parents bumping into one another at the park as their eldest children were running around with different people, conversing and being amicable with others that were not them. when mari’s mother met hero’s, she had called her daughter over and told her to say hello to a younger hero, who had been hiding behind his mother’s leg, tiny fingers clutched onto the fabric of her jeans. hero’s mother had laughed and asked to go easy on him because he’s a little shy, but that never deterred mari— mari and her bright smile, her outstretched hand towards him, and the way she had said: “hi! my name’s mari, what’s yours?” 

hero thought, at the time, he had been looking sunlight in the eye. she was so bright, that light not once dimming until her death. he was immediately attracted, like a magnet, thought that he wanted to be her friend, that he wanted to be close to her and no one else. so, he looked at her, had tilted his head shyly downwards as he had grabbed her hand to shake it timidly. “i’m… i’m hero. it’s nice to meet you, mari.”

  
  
  
  


_it doesn’t feel real, not even now. maybe i think you’re still there, playing on your piano, practicing for your recital with sunny. i find myself at your door, ready to knock, but the darkness from your windows shocks me every time. you’ll tell me it’s okay, won’t you? i just don’t think i’m ready yet, even as i’m writing this to you._

  
  
  
  


sunny and kel were born years after, though sunny was born near the end of the year and kel had immediately attached himself to the infant, despite them both being blundering babies, unable to walk and talk just yet. often, hero found himself carrying kel in his arms to mari’s house, greeting her with tired eyes and a tired smile, before passing kel to her waiting arms as he steps in. it was a… tradition, of sorts: going over to each other’s house to hang out, to babysit their brothers together. maybe it had been an excuse for hero to see mari more often, even under the fond eyes of their mothers. he didn’t know it then, but they were plotting behind their backs— what colors would the flowers be, what color would her dress be, if he would or if she would… hero had not thought about any of that, but really, only focused on how mari looked nice while playing with sunny and kel, how she looked gentle while giving kel her then-elementary school level flute. 

hero did not realize it then but he had been completely and utterly enamored. 

  
  
  
  


_in the dark, around midnight or maybe even past that, i’ll hear it. the piece you always play. i have it memorized too. the way your fingers trace over the keys… i can do it too now. i can play it by heart. but when i do, i just… start crying. it taints the keyboard. i don’t like it then. it sounds ugly when i play._

  
  
  
  


from elementary-level flute to late middle school-level piano, she would sweep across the floor with her music sheets, her fingers playing in the air as if a piano was floating right alongside with her. hero would look up from where he’d be doing his homework to see her humming, brows pinching together in utter concentration, to try and pick up the melody she had to memorize for her talent show (“slash, recital! hero… get it right, come on!”). it had meant the world to her and she had to get every beat right or else she would never forgive herself for even the slightest misstep. kel beside and sunny across, hero had been tutoring them, looking over their work to make sure they were actually doing it and not getting it wrong.

but mari’s presence had been distracting, in the best way possible. 

she would catch him staring and he would look away, breath caught in his throat and red blooming high on his cheeks. then she would giggle and skip around to where hero had been sitting, draping over him innocently, teasingly. then she would ask him this and that. she would ask him about this and this and this. she would ask him to play with her and he’d splutter in surprise. he’d say: _i’m not good with musical instruments_ — but she’d say: _so? i’ll teach you_. 

and teach, she did.

  
  
  
  


_i don’t hear the violin anymore. it’s… always silent around us. aubrey, basil, and sunny don’t come to meet with kel anymore. kel tries to go to your place but no one answers, not sunny. it’s been two years and he hasn’t come out. kel’s worried, still. he knocks on the door every day, hoping. i wish i had that strength. i did, the first year. but… y’know, it hit me. it’s silent and dark._

  
  
  
  


when they had entered high school and got two years in, their siblings had two more friends they met in their second year of middle school and it had been months of sunlight and flowers and cameras and polaroids. months of music floating into their backyard from mari’s practice room, but paired with a new noise, this time. it sounded rough, a little scratchy around the edges, but smooth and elegant. it was heavier, in comparison to the piano, which sounded light on its toes, like a fairy jumping from petal-to-petal. hero had stopped flipping through the pages of his cookbook to listen; it sounded nice, like a pairing made from the hands of god. he had found himself listening to it until the sun began to set and his mother called him in. 

“sunny got a violin, hero! did you hear that? that was sunny playing— didn’t he sound super cool?!” kel had been jumping around in excitement for his longtime friend’s involvement in music. hero had merely smiled. _it did sound super cool_ , he had said, ruffling his brother’s hair. 

he could not stop thinking about how the music lilted into the air, so naturally. pulsating as if to bring life into wilted flowers but pushing faster and faster, uneven on the rocks like a turbulent wave. hero could not have known. how could he have?

  
  
  
  


_i feel bad whenever i think about it. sunny’s difficulties with the violin… seeing you push yourself more and more with the piano… seeing sunny get more and more frustrated when the bow didn’t slide across the strings the way he wanted to. i know what you would say. that it’s not my fault. but i feel responsible… i mean… we were the adults. we were supposed to look after them. i should’ve told sunny that he was doing okay._

  
  
  
  


their group would meet at mari’s place often, to listen to the brother-sister duo play for their mini audience or to even hang out as sunny practiced on his violin, fingers becoming blistered due to over-practice. mari had been worried too, that he might burn out if he keeps up the habit. but they had been young. they didn’t know any better. they were only fresh into high school after all, how could they have known? 

  
  
  
  


_i should’ve told you that you played so beautifully._

  
  
  
  


she would play like she was on cloud nine, like she was in love with the way her fingers made music so effortlessly. she would play like she was in love, which she had been, as she had caught hero’s eyes often when he stood beside her, his fingers over hers as she guided their hands across the planes of the piano. she would play as if she lived for nothing else but the piano: slow then fast, warm then hot, calm seas then turbulent waves, gentle breeze then tornadoes whose only purpose is to annihilate. she would play obsessively, seeking perfection in the cracks. she would play gently, crying over the harsh press of her fingers against the keys, asking for forgiveness when she pushes too fast, too far. 

  
  
  
  


_i should’ve told you that you and sunny played so well together. that you guys would get first place. i should’ve asked if everything was alright._

  
  
  
  


there had been tension between the brother-sister duo the evening they had decided to watch them practice one last time; sunny would not look at mari, mari would glance at sunny often, worry creasing her brows. hero stared at her often, had grown up watching her with love in his eyes, to know that something had been amiss. he often asked himself if he should prod, if he should step in and ask if everything had been alright but never did. instead, he sat back and enjoyed the show, pretending to not see the visible irritation sunny displayed with each swing, each sway, each push of the bow against the taut strings. 

one last look to the love of his young, adolescent life and she smiled at him, as if to reassure. and he had believed her smile, as he would believe every other smile of hers, and left, with aubrey holding one hand and kel holding the other. 

  
  
  
  


_i should’ve said i like you._

  
  
  
  


when news had come, rippling like a disturbance in an otherwise calm pond, it hit hero particularly hard. she had smiled at him the night before, she had told him everything had been okay, under control. had he misread her? but how could he have? he knew her too well, or did he? had he missed a look in her eye, had he missed a message she had been trying to send him, had he missed something? hero had fallen into shock, fingers trembling and eyes shedding tears without his consent. he had wanted to see her, no matter in which condition, he wanted to see her but his mother, sobbing, held him back. his brother had been too shellshocked to say or even do anything. 

that night, he had his first sleepless night. it had been silent and dark, a foreshadowing for the years to come. 

  
  
  
  


_i thought i knew everything about you but if there was one thing i missed… i wished you could have told me, mari. i… i miss you. i think i’ll always miss you. there’s a hole in my heart i don’t think anyone else but you can fix. and i regret not being able to do much for you. i’m sorry. i should’ve done more. i should’ve looked out for you and for sunny more. i’m sorry._

  
  
  


_maybe i’m two years too late but…_

  
  
  
  


_i love you._

  
  
  
  


_sincerely yours,_

_hero_

  
  
  
  


the itchy fabric of his sweater scratches against his smooth but tired skin, bags under his eyes indicator of how little sleep he had gotten these past years. he sniffles, loudly, as a stray tear joins the others on the piece of wrinkled paper on his desk, soaking it and causing some penciled words to become smudged. hero is not one to be a perfectionist, at least not in the same manner mari had been, so it doesn’t bother him much. doesn’t bother him when he can’t even be bothered to hate how it looks. with slow fingers, he folds the letter and presses it gently into the envelope that had been lettered out to be for mari. he does it with a tired, exhausted, sense of gentility, as if he could make one wrong move and it’d break apart. 

a sole white egret orchid sits beside the stationary and he stares at it for a bit. he remembers how basil had peeked out from behind his door, shame crossing his features briefly before it cascaded into horror, then out of nowhere the boy had slammed the door in hero’s face, squeaking out a “sorry”. 

the flower twirls between roughened fingertips, a gentle scent emanating from its buds. he remembers how he had come again the next day and instead of basil, his grandmother had opened the door— weak but steady with the sudden thrust of hero’s arm, pushing out to steady the older woman with a gasp. she had let out a raspy laugh, then thanked him and invited him in. a brief conversation later and she had gifted him with the orchid he came for. 

clear tape rips off the corner of his desk and he presses the flower, still breathing with life, to the front of the envelope and then tapes the stem down. he stares a while longer, his chest heaving with the deep breaths he takes, and then presses his lips to the petals— so gently. it doesn’t take him long to walk down to where the church is, to the cemetery where mari’s name is engraved in stone, and when he does, he swallows thickly and falls to his knees, the letter fluttering gently to where the other bouquets lay, untouched.

hero cries, and cries, until he cannot any longer, until the sun has dipped behind the mountains and the moon has laid out her curtain of stars over his hunched shoulders. he cries until kel comes up from behind him and pulls him up from the ground where his knees pounded onto. he cries until he’s tucked into his bed by his younger brother until sleep takes over him and he forgets the pain momentarily. 

his brain takes pity on his exhausted soul, his equally exhausted heart, and provides images of mari holding his hand, tugging him further into the light with sparkling lashes, sparkling eyes. 

she mouths: _thank you, my love. i forgive you. live happily now._


End file.
